


Deadlines & Good Times

by AlienShawty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crack, EMA are High Schoolers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Zevi, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Good Sibling Zeke Yeager, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Sad Moments but Overall Comedic Tone, Semi-Enemies to lovers, Slow Burn, Smut, The Major Character Death is Erwin But We'll Get to That in Later Chapters, Underage Smoking, Zeke Has Asshole Tendencies but He's still a Decent Guy, my attempt at comedy, past eruri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienShawty/pseuds/AlienShawty
Summary: Upon successful completion of Zeke Jeager's dissertation and rigorous graduate program, he'll earn a PhD. But for now, he is simply a part-time dad to his brother Eren and friends, a sporadic English tutor, professional napper, occasional degenerate, and most importantly, a full-time graduate teaching assistant for Dr. Magath. Levi Ackermann is a college dropout and cafe employee with a tragic past. When their paths literally intersect in the cafe, what will come of it?Or: Graduate school AU in which all Zeke Jeager can do is be bisexual, eat hot chip, and die (on the inside).
Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman/Zeke Yeager, Moblit Berner/Hange Zoë, Pieck Finger/Porco Galliard, Zeke Yeager/Lara Tybur
Comments: 37
Kudos: 75





	1. The Pastry Police

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers since this is an AU, but there will be some winks and nods to plot points of the new season :-)) Some notes before you begin::
> 
> \- Zeke, Pieck, Porco, Reiner, and Lara are around the same age, about 23-24.  
> \- Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are high school juniors, about 16-17.
> 
> I read this over a few times but didn't go crazy with the editing and proofreading, as doing that usually makes me overthink everything. So if I made any errors, no I didn't<3 Enjoy!

Zeke Jaeger jolted awake to the incessant blare of his alarm clock— _5 o’clock already!_ He nearly fell out of his chair when his whole body shuddered. Instinctively hitting the snooze button, Zeke plopped his head back down onto his hard wooden desk and drifted off to sleep, resting for as much time as his iPhone would allow. He drowsed for another 9 minutes until his alarm once again startled him awake. Then another 9 minutes, then another, then another, until finally, at 5:36 p.m., the jarring discordance of a pounding on his door and his phone alarm sounding together officially concluded his slumber.

“Zeke, you up yet?” Eren yelled through his brother’s door. Zeke grumbled and slurred something unintelligible before unenthusiastically lifting his head from his desk, still heavy with drowsiness. Eren twisted the doorknob and paused in the doorway. “We’re ready whenever you—” Eren began, before stopping mid-sentence to see the imprints of Zeke’s watch etched into his forehead. 

“Whenever you’re done napping, me, Mikasa, and Armin are ready to go,” Eren snickered, before exiting into the hallway.

“Yeah, I know. Just gimme a few minutes.” Zeke mumbled, head facing the door but eyes not fully focused on anything. He gazed down at his desk which was littered with books, highlighters, gel pens, and other instruments of college productivity. Or at least, _pretend productivity_ in Zeke’s case _._

It had already been quite a long day for him; his morning began at around 7:30ish, hauling Eren and his buddies off to Fritz Senior High (wherefrom Zeke was a proud alumni) and then racing back home to organize his materials for Dr. Magath’s lecture that morning. 

Zeke lazily rose from his chair and stretched, yawning audibly as he rolled his neck and shoulders. He grasped a water bottle from the desk and messily chugged it in what seemed like one sip, water crawling down his bearded face. He was parched! 

He shoved the books, papers, highlighters, and his laptop that decorated his desk into his bookbag. He spotted his gray, stained ‘Marley Chemistry Department’ sweatshirt across the room and pulled it on over his water-dampened t-shirt. Zeke slid his feet into some Birkenstocks— _socks and sandals will always be in, fuck the naysayers_. Gray sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and socks and sandals were a comfy staple for Zeke. His uniform ‘groutfit.’

Grabbing his glasses, he slapped them onto his face before blinking his surroundings into focus. His eyes roamed around his bedroom, which was a bizarre fusion between his childhood hyperfixations and current interests, but he liked it that way. Baseball figurines sat next to posters of ganja leaves (which Grisha begged for him to remove from his wall). Obligatory _Pulp Fiction_ and _Fight Club_ posters hung above a blue and yellow toy bin, which definitely wasn’t hiding a bong. A half full bottle of lube stood atop a Dr. Seuss book on the dresser. A stuffed monkey Aunt Fay gifted him on his first day of elementary school laid on his bed in a strategic position, obscuring a jizz stain from his lusty middle school days. _Good times,_ he smirked to himself.

Trudging over to his mirror framed with Polaroids of him and friends, he ruffled his shaggy blond hair and lightly brushed any lint out of his beard of the same color with his fingers. He remained in front of the mirror for a moment, looking into his own eyes _._ His long days granted them a unique look; the classic college student visage of misery, sleep deprivation, and despair. 

He lifelessly pointed finger guns at his reflection before roaming over to his bookbag to pull it onto his back. 

Unlocking his phone, he opened a snapchat from Pieck, a cute selfie featuring a pouting, shirtless Porco in the background. He smirked at the lovebirds.

“God, what’s taking him so long? The bastard—” Zeke overheard Eren complaining to Mikasa and Armin about him in a miffed tone.

“I’m hurrying!” Zeke offered, checking his watch. He brushed over his forehead, thankful that the evidence of his nap was gone. He snatched up the collection of cups, mugs, water bottles, and cereal bowls that had accumulated in his room. Hands crowded, he strategically flipped the light switch with his pinky and trudged into the kitchen. Walking right past the three teenagers in the living room as they eyed him curiously, he dumped the dirty dishes into the sink, adding to the collection of dishes that would be washed ‘whenever’ according to Eren. 

Juggling the water bottles in his hands, Zeke pivoted on his heels to face the obviously ready kids. “You kids ready?”

Eren scoffed. “First off, we’re not kids. Second off, we’ve been ready for a fucking hour!” Eren snapped at his older brother, Armin’s eyes widening at the sudden and brash profanity. 

“Woah! Watch the language, you piece of shit.” Zeke chuckled. “Here, make yourself useful and take these to the recycling bin by the dumpster when we get there.” 

“Why can’t you? They’re already in your arms.” Eren objected, then reluctantly extended his arms to accept the plastic cargo.

“Because _I_ have to drive,” Zeke answered, gesturing toward himself. It was Tuesday evening, and that meant carting the three amigos—Eren, Mikasa, and Armin—to the local hipster hut cafe where they could work on schoolwork and live out their little _hipster_ fantasy, drinking their _hipster_ beverages from the _hipster_ cups, seated in _hipster_ chairs among the _hipster_ cafe decor. Real hip.

  
  


Zeke jingled his car keys and finger-gunned toward the door. “Let’s roll out!” Armin and Mikasa headed out the door before Eren, Mikasa working diligently to untangle her earbuds as she strolled toward the car. Zeke turned off the living room light and locked the door behind everyone else. They filed into his SUV and settled in their seats. It was a burgundy ‘05 Hyundai Tucson—a perfectly sized car for a teenager chauffeur, another gift from Aunt Fay. Zeke flopped his bookbag between Armin and Mikasa in the backseat. After checking if everyone’s seatbelt was on, he crept out of the driveway, backing out in slow-motion. _Dad mode activated._

He made sure to be extra careful when transferring the precious cargo to its location. Their heads jerked with each abrupt slam of the breaks as he cautiously backed out, earning annoyed glances at him.

Eren clicked the ‘aux’ button and hooked up his phone without delay after Zeke finished backing out the driveway and straightening the wheels.

“Ugh, we already listened to your trash this morning!” Zeke protested, earning scattered giggles from the backseat. Eren feigned offense, before disconnecting his phone from the cord and muttering out a ‘whatever.’ He opened some text messages before conjuring up another quip for Zeke.

“By the way, dad says you shouldn’t drive in those sandals.” Eren informed.

“Grisha also said I should’ve gone to medical school. Most of what he says doesn’t matter anyway. Plus, I’m like the safest driver I know,” Zeke asserted, narrowly avoiding a traffic cone.

“I think that cone back there would disagree. It looks pretty traumatised,” Mikasa teased, before placing her earbuds snugly in her ears. Zeke frowned at the orange cone, peering through his rearview mirror with flimsy concern. It tilted toward the pavement, lonely and obviously dejected by the hit it almost took from the SUV. 

Eren propped his feet up on the dashboard and ran his hand through his hair. “You drive like grandpa!” he chimed above the low static of the radio. 

“Eren, it does not matter how slow I go, as long as I do not stop,” Zeke professed, like a wise old sage.

“Isn’t that a quote from that confused guy?”

“I think you mean _Confucius_ ,” Armin corrected quietly from the backseat.

“Precisely right, the Chinese philosopher!” Zeke confirmed, smiling at Armin in the rearview mirror. Armin blushed and shrunk into his seat a bit. He looked as though he was going to continue speaking as his lips were slightly parted, as if the words were on his tongue, but Zeke looked at Eren and promptly cut off whatever was going to be said by him. 

Armin directed his gaze out the window and silently took in the sights of Shiganshina as Zeke drove to the hipster hut in Marley. The regular hustle and bustle of the city had quieted in the evening hours, leaving a more peaceful scene.

“Now, grab the red album from the glove compartment,” Zeke demanded. His red album was a mix of his favorite classic rock tunes that he’d burned a while back, comprised mostly of songs from _Rumors_ and various Led Zeppelin hits. 

“Who still burns CDs? Just make a damn playlist already!” Eren continuously jabbed at Zeke, mostly in jest.

“I have plenty of playlists. I just use CDs in the car because I don’t have to distract myself by looking down at my phone to skip songs. Wouldn’t wanna endanger my _precious_ baby brother and his besties,” Zeke reached over to pinch Eren’s cheek, having his hand violently swatted away by Eren before it made contact. Both Mikasa and Armin snickered at the interaction, Eren himself containing a smile.

Zeke halted prematurely at the yellow light, brakes scraping as the car behind him honked. He raised his finger to lecture the kids in the car. “See, some modern music is okay, but this. _This_ is the real stuff!” “Dreams” resounded in the small space; Zeke swayed his head to the magical Fleetwood Mac song that washed over him. No matter how many times he’d heard the song, Stevie Nicks never failed to cast a spell on him.

Eren and Mikasa fixated on their phones, likely scrolling endlessly through social media as the song wafted around them. Armin mindlessly mouthed the words.

Zeke raised his brows and glanced at Armin through the rearview mirror once again, who was fully reveling in the rhythms of the song. Apparently the blonds in the car were the only ones enchanted by the songstress; guess Stevie just had that effect on her own kind. 

“At least someone here has culture!” Zeke boomed over the song.

Armin ceased his mouthing and grinned shyly. Eren and Mikasa looked at each other, then continued on with their social media plunge. “I love Fleetwood Mac, and this is easily one of their best songs from one of their best albums. Though I do prefer _Tusk,_ I—”

“Hnnnng.” Eren yawned loudly, cutting off the young blond. “Quit gushing! You don’t have to say this to make Zeke feel better, his music is a drag, point blank period!” Eren exclaimed. 

“Eren!” Mikasa reprimanded. “Don’t be rude, Armin was talking.” She shot Eren _a look_ that made him back down, then motioned for Armin to continue. The light turned green and the car behind honked Zeke, clearly in a rush to be somewhere.

Armin stammered a bit and elected to wrap up his comments. “I was just saying. Well, I like them, that’s all. My grandfather introduced me to them.”

Thrilled by the statement, Zeke placed a hand on his chest and sentimentally professed, “Warms my heart to see the new generation enjoying music from my time.” Armin smiled to himself at Zeke’s approval, then furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Your time? You were born way after this album dropped.” Eren squinted his eyes skeptically.

“Yeah Zeke, you weren’t even born when this song was released. That was in 1977,” Armin explained.

“Very astute. But good music transcends time, so that doesn’t matter!” He declared, swinging his head to the soft vocals and tapping on the steering wheel in time with each hit of the song’s drums.

He completed another left turn, this time into Marley’s downtown center as the vocals faded until a new song filled the silence. A bluesy Led Zeppelin track began.

“You know, out of the three of you, I think arm and hammer here is my favorite.” The trio exchanged muddled looks. Mikasa took her earbuds back out. She listened to her music loud enough to block out Eren’s nonsensical jabs at his brother, but somehow quiet enough to be aware of what was said in the car.

“Arm and Hammer? Like the baking soda brand…?” Mikasa asked for clarity, stuffing her earbuds into her pocket.

“No, Armin Hammer!” Zeke removed his hands from the steering wheel to clap while he guffawed, unmistakably proud of his witty wordplay. Armin’s mouth pulled into a nervous smile. He was only mildly perturbed by the tease. 

Mikasa chortled into her scarf while Eren rolled his eyes and gave the laughing driver a shove. “Boo, you suck!” He jeered.

  
  


Turning the key out of the ignition, he announced, “We’re here!” as if his pulling into the parking lot behind the cafe didn’t make it obvious. “And there’s the recycling bin over there, Eren.” He pointed. He moved his feet from the dashboard.

Eren peered at the recycling bin by the dumpsters and gathered the water bottles in his hand. “You should invest in a reusable bottle. That way you don’t have to make me your personal little garbage boy,” Eren suggested. Zeke nodded in disagreement. 

“That’s silly! You’ll always be my _personal little garbage boy_ ,” Zeke affirmed, in a voice one would use to refer to a dog, tugging Eren’s cheeks. His hands were too full to slap Zeke’s away, so he simply growled at the pinching.

“You drive like grandpa and you act like him, too!” He muttered, tilting his head away from Zeke’s affections so he could successfully recycle the bottles.

Mikasa and Armin hopped out the backseat, Mikasa holding both her bookbag and Eren’s in one hand. Zeke locked the car and pulled Armin aside.

He gripped his hand on Armin’s shoulders and met his eyes. “Hey. I won’t call you Armin Hammer if you don’t want me to.”

Armin swallowed hard, fumbling his words a bit. “I mean it was pretty clever—”

Not letting him finish, Zeke answered. “You seemed a bit antsy in the back seat, and I don’t want you feeling _uncomfortable._ ” He offered a smile that danced on the border between genuine and phony. My old man says I have to be _nicer to Eren’s friends after what happened last summer_ ,” he explained, in his stern Grisha Jaeger voice. 

In short, last summer at the Jaeger house, Zeke ate several THC-infused gummies and spazzed out, lugging Armin over his shoulder and tossing him into their above-ground swimming pool, before beating his chest and whooping like a monkey. Armin shrieked when his ankle smacked the perimeter of the pool, resulting in a hairline fracture and a hospital visit for the both of them, albeit a fractured ankle merited more medical attention than a twitching stoner. Needless to say, Grisha was irate when he walked into their rooms to tend to the both of them during his shift that evening. 

“It’s fine, really. It’s water under the bridge...Or I guess water over my head from when you violently flung me.” Armin chuckled and anxiously darted his eyes around the parking lot to avoid eye contact with the ankle-breaker who was boring into his soul with his eyes. 

“Glad we could move past it.” His hand lingered weirdly on Armin’s shoulder as he gave it a forceful pat. “You know, us blonds gotta look out for each other.”

Ultimately unsure of what ‘looking out for each other’ even meant, Armin just nodded robotically and turned toward the establishment Mikasa entered. “Yeah, I think we should head inside. Eren and Mikasa are probably waiting for us.”

“Right. I’ll be there in a few.” Zeke watched Armin enter the cafe, then slid a cigarette out the pack and set it between his lips. He whipped out his Zippo lighter and lit the stick before taking a slow, long drag. He checked a text from his dad and typed a terse “K” to whatever chore was being asked of him. Following a series of puffs, Zeke flung the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out, then strolled to the building.

Eren and Mikasa were already seated in the trio’s regular nook. It actually was a hip restaurant. The chairs, tables, silverware, and dishes were mismatched, all of them being unique, one-of-a-kind finds at local thrift stores. There were books and old board games you could rent for a few dollars as you ate. The differing wallpaper on the three walls didn’t match, but it somehow did. Old movie posters and vinyls bedecked the walls, and a mural was commissioned for the fourth wall. It appeared to be a pop art piece, just avant-garde enough to be considered _fine_ art thanks to the elements of Dadaism sprinkled in. 

Daily specials and other menu items were written in chalk and hung above the cash register. They served lunch dishes, dinner entrees, dessert pastries, and a wide variety of drinks. All ingredients ethically sourced, organic, fair-trade certified, cage-free, and non-GMO of course. Ambient music drifted around the establishment to create a mellow atmosphere; the enticing aroma of pastries and muffins by the register only added to the calmness.

Armin joined Mikasa and Eren, sagging into his chair. Zeke seated himself far away from them and anybody else for that matter, which was very easy since the cafe wasn’t particularly busy on a Tuesday evening. At least the quiet would grant him the ability to focus on grading papers. He placed his bookbag on the _hip rug_ that adorned the floor and pulled his supplies out. 

All set up, Zeke dove into his first paper of the night. Dr. Magath assigned a brief response paper to an assigned article. Halfway through the third paragraph, Zeke noticed some movement in his peripheral, peering up to see Eren standing, expectantly. Zeke shook his head, urging his brother to speak. 

“So how’s paper grading going?” He asked, weirdly quizzical.

“Fine, I mean I just start—”

“I need money please,” Eren interjected.

“Dad didn’t give you any?” Eren nodded. “Ugh! Fucking Grisha... _”_ Zeke’s voice trailed off as he griped, fishing out a crumpled 5$ bill in his pocket.

“Real nice Mr. Krabs. What’s this supposed to get me?” Zeke huffed through his nose and pulled out his wallet.

“Here. Order me something with a shit-ton of caffeine.” This time, Zeke pulled a crisp 20$ out of his wallet and handed it to Eren.

“Good looks!” Eren threw up a peace sign before plodding to the register to order. 

He resumed the paragraph he was on, circling some misspelled words. Spelling and grammar weren’t necessarily a component of the grading rubric, but some of the errors were simply egregious. He read to the end of the first page before realizing he absorbed none of the content. So he reread, then took in nothing, then reread, then took in nothing, before finally dropping it onto the table.

Low energy plus a lack of motivation to grade papers made Zeke’s phone all the more attractive. Snapchat beckoned him, and were those new messages from his buddies? A quick check couldn’t hurt. Zeke succumbed, unlocking his phone and tapping speedily through Snap stories. 

A snap of a shirtless Reiner smiling next to a plate of burgers he’d just cooked on his story, to which Zeke responded;

**Zeke** : Idk which is beefier😍👅

**Reiner** : keep joking and we’re gonna end up like porco & pieck😳

A filtered selfie of Porco and Pieck basking in their post-coital glow on Porco’s story captioned with nothing but “🍆💦🍑” to which Zeke responded;

**Zeke** : Yuckie! Get a room👎🏻

**Porco** : Whatever, your just mad bc I have the baddest shorty in the game !!🍆🍆

**Zeke** : *you’re

**Porco** : 🖕🏻

A salacious throwback bikini pic on Lara Tybur’s story, captioned “Missing summers on Tybur Island just a lil extra rn😔” to which Zeke responded;

**Zeke** : Looking 👁respectfully as always...

**Lara** : 😂😂what are you doing next week?

**Zeke** : Hopefully you?🤞🏻

**Lara** : you’re outta control!😉we’ll talk later bby

Zeke glanced at the time at the top of his screen before checking Colt and Yelena’s stories and _holy shit 7 o’clock already??_ Fuck those social media algorithms for being so addictive! He tucked his phone away into a compartment of his bookbag. Time to focus, no more lollygagging. 

He grabbed the paper to pick up where he left off, only to have placed the paper in a coffee stain on the table. _Shit!_ Whoever cleaned the table did a sucky job. Cleanliness certainly isn’t a priority for them. The coffee stain blemished the paper, rendering it sticky and barely legible. He’d have to ask that student to resubmit their work, no doubt about it. 

Zeke had a thought to pee before starting another paper and before his caffeine dose got to the table. _Better empty out before I fill up, right?_ After all, he did chug a whole water bottle after his nap. Not only could he relieve himself, he could also grab some paper towels to wipe the poorly cleaned table.

He rose from the seat and caught Eren’s eyes across the cafe, mouthing a ‘Watch my stuff’ before briskly stepping toward the back of the establishment. His journey to the bathroom was abruptly cut short. 

He spotted a flash of inky hair in front of him before he felt liquid scorch his abdomen, as it spilled onto his already-stained sweatshirt. The inky-haired culprit staggered back a step and opened his mouth in disgust, as he clearly got the worse end of it. His whole shirt clung to his abdomen as his hot tea, much more than had spilled on Zeke, adorned his sleeves and crotch, soaking him with repulsion. 

But wait, there’s more! In addition to the tea that saturated his body, in the collision, the shorter man accidentally smashed his blueberry danish onto himself. Clumps of it smeared on his already-soaked abdomen, the flaky crust adhering easily to his shirt because of the dampness. Icing and blueberry jam painted his shirt a lighter blue, and confectioner’s sugar topped it all. The man looked like a delicious mess—pastries and tea definitely weren’t trendy this season; hopefully he had a change of clothes handy.

Zeke gawked at him, before working out a worthless ‘Sorry.’ The jumbo ceramic mug holding the tea and the plate holding the danish slipped out of the ravenette’s hands and dropped onto the floor, just missing the cushiony rug, clattering as they were turned to smithereens by the impact. The whole cafe turned its attention to the hostile exchange.

“Sorry my ass! Watch where you fucking walk!” he boomed, above the low murmur of the cafe.

“I do watch where I walk!” Zeke clarified, squinting down through his glasses at the nametag on the sullied man’s chest. “I just didn’t see you down there, _Levi_.” For a second time that evening, Zeke entertained himself with his own wit.

The man’s lips curled in further rage as he scowled at the blond. His fists clenched and he grit his teeth; fury boiled in his dark eyes. Zeke's joking attitude shifted to one more serious; he froze in abject horror at the seething man, already prepared to taste the shorter man’s wrath. 

Eren, Mikasa, and Armin quit their prattling, and Eren, resisting the urge to record the brewing altercation for Worldstar or some other exploitative video-sharing platform, dashed over to the scene. Mikasa followed behind Eren while Armin watched from afar. 

“Zeke, what the hell is going on?” he asked.

“This dwarf bumped into me and then dumped his treat all over himself,” Zeke answered. Just as the man slightly unclenched his fists, he felt them tighten again.

“Your version of events is fucking wrong! _You_ didn’t watch where you were going and slammed into _me,_ ” he growled. 

An attempt to de-escalate came from Mikasa. “Look, everyone just calm down. We’ll clean this up, and it’ll be forgotten.” Her attempt proved fruitful, as a fraction of his fury dissolved at the prospect of the mess being cleaned.

“Damn right you will!” His tea-drenched outfit stuck to him, the blueberry jam and icing seeping through to touch his skin. He was sickened at the filth.

Realizing his break time was limited, he announced, “Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit, I need to go change.”

With that, he pushed past the brothers and Mikasa and out the front door, storming to his car. He flung the trunk open and grabbed a change of clothes, before re-entering the cafe and stopping in front of the scene. They eyed the man in front of them as he barked an order.

“By the time I’m done changing, all this shit better be cleaned up.” He stalked to the back toward the bathroom and slammed the door with so much force, it nearly shook the building.

“Who the hell is he, giving orders like that?” Zeke questioned irritably. 

Then an idea popped into the blond’s head. “Know what? Let’s just go home, fuck this.”

“But who’s gonna clean all this up?” Mikasa asked, Eren echoing her concern. 

“Don’t know, and don’t care. That is not my job!” Zeke declared, matter-of-factly. “Showtime is over people, resume munching on your overpriced meals!” He announced to the few cafe patrons still gawking at the scene, who then promptly turned their attention away.

He scurried to his table and threw his stuff into his bookbag, then turned to Mikasa and Eren. “Pack up, kids, we’re getting outta here before he comes out that bathroom and tries to kill me...or reports me to the pastry police for murdering his danish.”

And so Zeke, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin gathered their belongings and guiltily dashed out the door, narrowly avoiding the pissed-off man who emerged from the bathroom. 

He was utterly stunned to see a mess still on the floor—now thickly slimy and even more difficult to wipe up—while the blond culprit and his teenage ‘accomplices’ fled the sticky crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! Leave some feedback if you want, but please be nice<3 If there's any confusion about locations, character ages, and character motivations, drop a comment and I'll be happy to clarify as best as I can!
> 
> I modeled the cafe after one in my town, it's super cute and ~hip~ lol
> 
> Next chapter will be from Levi's perspective, so tune in for that :-)


	2. Levi Poppins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pastry/tea incident as seen from Levi's perspective, as well as his whole day leading up to that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing well :-)) Some notes before you begin::
> 
> \- Levi is 27; Moblit and Hange are around that same age, 26-27.  
> \- Hange's pronouns are they/them.  
> \- I see Levi as an introvert, so certain italicized phrases and sentences are meant to represent his inner monologue.
> 
> I wouldn't consider this chapter as dialogue-heavy as the last. I'm not completely satisfied with the product, but I'm kinda tired of seeing it on my computer screen LOL
> 
> I read this over a few times but didn't go crazy with the editing and proofreading, as doing that usually makes me overthink everything. So if I made any errors, no I didn't<3 Enjoy!

Levi Ackermann gently blinked his eyes open, wary of the mid-morning sun that peered at him through the light curtains in his room. He’d awoken multiple times throughout his slumber and in each instance, he glared irritably at his ceiling which, consequently, glared precisely at him from above, mocking his inability to dream peacefully without interruption. Levi wriggled to the edge of his bed, still tangled in his white sheets. Perhaps another day he’d solve the mystery that is  _ undisturbed sleep _ . 

Glancing at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he was rather perplexed by the time—10:36 a.m. He’d dozed off around 3 a.m., but it certainly didn’t feel like 7 and a half hours worth of rest, compliments to his fucked-up sleep schedule. Levi grasped his iPhone and opened the Notes app to add ‘melatonin pills’ to his growing shopping list. 

Sitting up at the edge of his bed, Levi straightened his back as he stretched. He slipped his feet into his gray slippers and tucked his phone into the pocket of his sleep pants, then trudged to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and brush his teeth. Once done in there, he returned to his room and pulled up the covers on his bed. He glanced around his room to ascertain the degree of order from the night before—as expected, his room was still perfectly spotless and sleek; a minimalist’s wet dream. 

He stepped over to his dresser and picked out his track pants, a white tee, and some socks from their respective drawers, which were full of neatly folded clothes. He dressed in the activewear, then clutched his running shoes off the shoe rack. Then, he applied a generous layer of sunscreen to his face and neck after combing his hair to a minor degree of presentability, but nothing too formal since it was just a jog he was heading out for. With his phone, apartment key, and wallet in his pockets as well as his black headphones around his neck, he was set to run. He put on his shoes by the door and tied them, then proceeded down the stairs of the apartment building and crossed through the lobby.

Levi preferred to exercise at the beginning of his day; much unlike his disrupted sleep, it actually gave him a grand boost of energy. Running equipped him with something to look forward to when he laid his head down at night—it was the perfect opponent for the ceaseless nihilism which pervaded his solitary life.

He primarily exercised at the track not far from the apartment building, but occasionally sprinted through the trails in the nearby forest, appreciating the solitude of nature. He performed a few dynamic stretches then warmed up further by walking briskly to the track. Levi never underestimated the significance of warming up before running, lest he wind up in the hospital with a pulled hamstring again.

Once at the track, Levi took off like a bullet. He was fully engrossed in his sprint, and his playlist heightened the experience further. “Seven Nation Army” blared through his headphones—though he did prefer Jack White as a solo artist as opposed to one half of The White Stripes—propelling him forward as he lapped around the track, surpassing all other runners and walkers present. After a solid 15 minutes of sprinting, Levi decelerated, crouching to tie his shoes. This was one of the parts of his day he unabashedly enjoyed; dashing around the track with his sweat-dampened clothes clinging to him and with lungs full of fresh air as his body tingled and blood flowed with exhilaration and exhaustion. He raced about the track until the point of near-collapse, surrendering to his body’s depletion. Evidently, it was a bomb-ass run.

Returning to the apartment, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, removing his shoes at the door. His entire body was doused with sweat; normally he’d peel off his clothes and make a beeline for the bathroom. However, his body was forced to engage once more, this time in fight-or-flight mode. Upon advancing further into the apartment, he’d heard a loud and unexpected  _ thud. _

Could it be a burglar? How did they get inside when he locked the door before his run? What would they want? Not that the apartment was completely barren, but there wasn’t exactly much to pillage.  _ Fuck all of that, I need to grab a weapon.  _ Levi dismissed his growing concerns and chose ‘fight’ instead of ‘flight.’ He gripped a big black umbrella which rested upon a wall adjacent to the door and positioned it in his hand, prepared for combat.

He startled at the next  _ thump _ he heard, gripping the umbrella tighter. Tension hung in the air as he kicked open his bedroom door—and found an empty room. He exhaled relief as a minute fraction of the tension dissipated. No one in the kitchen or living room, and the bathroom as well was utterly devoid of humans.  _ Thump! _ He recognized the bedroom next to his as the epicenter of the sounds—that must be the scene of the crime-in-progress. He promptly exited back into the living room, then barged into the bedroom next to his, where he expected to meet the noisy assailant. Except, he wasn’t met with a burglar, but something entirely worse. 

A naked, groaning Hange bounced atop a naked, moaning Moblit. Hange craned their neck around to face the door and greet Levi cheerfully, while Moblit squirmed under them.

“Levi! How was your jog?” They questioned with a wide smile, still grinding against Moblit. “Wait, is it raining today?”

“Should’ve knocked!” Moblit murmured, unsheathing himself from Hange before obscuring his body with a blanket, flashing Levi a view of his body in the process. Hange simply laughed; they didn’t seem to mind being seen naked, especially not by Levi. They remained on the bed, expectant of an answer from Levi regarding the weather for the day.

“Fucking gross.” The words spilled out of Levi, as he loosened his grip on his makeshift weapon. After receiving a full glimpse of Moblit while he hustled to cover himself up, Levi promptly closed the door. He returned the umbrella to its place by the door, then cringed at the visuals he’d just seen. As unsettling as it was, seeing Hange and Moblit naked was nothing new. He’d been roommates with Hange for a few years and that inadvertently meant being roommates with their boyfriend, Moblit. Levi was ultimately thankful that they kept their coital activities out of  _ his _ bedroom, even if that meant periodically seeing them in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom.

Carrying on and disregarding the love scene he’d interrupted, Levi stripped out of his drenched activewear and hung it up to dry. He stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower nozzle, positioning himself under the water. The hot water trickled down his svelte, naked body, alleviating the dull aches from his jog. The steam traversed his clear pores and opened his nasal passages. He rotated, allowing the water to pounce on his back, before lathering soap between his hands and massaging it all over his body. His soapy hands brushed against his soft member and thighs, and he raised his brows.  _ Might as well, clean up is easiest in the shower anyway. _

Levi rubbed his sudsy hands over his member again...then again, and once more, until it stood out from his body, perpendicular and swollen. With soap crawling down his abdomen, he wrapped his hand around his erection. He began at a speedier pace than usual, but it felt very nice nonetheless. He groaned deeply and licked his lips, pumping his member with a growing fervor. Had it been a while? Levi was already close to his end and he’d just started. His strokes grew ardent and desperate, he gripped tighter and—

“Don’t put it there, Hange!”

Levi groaned, as his efforts to come were once again thwarted by Moblit’s shout from the next room over, likely a result of Hange’s… ‘adventurous’ nature in bed. He stood in the shower, semi-erect in his hand, soap on his body, wondering if he should finish himself off after the interruption. 

_ Are blue balls actually a thing? Fuck it, I’m not about to find out.  _

Stroking himself to full hardness again, he grudgingly squeezed his fist tight around the head, until he felt himself spurting hotly over his fingers, grumbling out an audible moan of unenthusiastic pleasure. Perhaps next time he’d have a fulfilling orgasm, but clearly not today. He turned around and washed the lusty liquid off of himself expeditiously, then washed his face with his hydrating facial cleanser.

Levi shut off the water and stepped out the shower, clean as a whistle and only moderately satisfied. Toweling off, he spread lotion over his moist body, then peered at his face in the mirror. Another part of his day that sparked joy aside from exercising: his skincare routine. Following his hydrating facial cleanser in the shower, Levi patted toner over his face and neck, allowing it a few moments to dry. Next, a hyaluronic acid and vitamin C serum, before applying his ultra-hydrating facial cream. It was very moisturizing, but still lightweight. After he completed his daytime routine, he examined his face in the mirror. His skin was porcelain, pores practically nonexistent. _ Damn right. _

He opened his drawers and pulled out a light gray t-shirt and some medium wash jeans. He smirked at the irony— _ Levi pulling on some Levi jeans, heh _ . He slid his feet into his gray slippers and made for the kitchen, running a hand through his damp hair. The kitchen, like the apartment itself, had a homely feel, small but clean and cozy. The wallpaper and cabinets were old, but functional nonetheless. 

Levi spread avocado on whole-grain toast, plopped blueberries into Greek yogurt, then sliced up an apple—a healthy balance of fat, carbs, protein, and fiber. He sat at the kitchen table to dig into his brunch, joined by Hange and Moblit who were actually dressed. The two of them weirdly observed Levi in silence as he munched on toast, much to his annoyance.

He swallowed his bite. “So you just wake up and fuck like animals, is that it?” He asked, toast in hand, eyes switching between the lovebirds. Hange laughed, while Moblit eyed around the room, avoiding Levi’s glare like the plague. 

Hange shot Moblit a tender look. “Not necessarily, just when the mood strikes.” They snatched up an apple slice from Levi’s meal, earning an unpleasant look from him. “Why did you barge into my room with an umbrella when it’s sunny out?”

“I thought you were a fucking burglar!” Levi snapped.

“And you were gonna use the umbrella to fly away? Nice thinking,  _ Levi _ Poppins!” Hange teased, earning a snicker from Moblit.

“Tch. I thought the two of you were already on campus. Yet there you were, fucking each other for breakfast.”

“I mean, you know what they say: Moblit is the most important meal of the day!” Moblit tittered, his face flushing as he squirmed in the seat.

Levi gagged in a joking manner. “Puke. And you’re the only ‘they’ who says that.”

“Exactly my point!” Hange responded, swallowing the apple slice. They switched the topic. “Why were you in the shower for so long?” They tilted their head downward and stared at Levi from under their glasses. 

“Were you spending time…” Hange raised an eyebrow and lowered their voice, " _ jerking off _ ?”

A short breath escaped Levi as he irritably shot his eyes at Hange. “What are you, timing my showers now?”

“No, not anymore.”

Levi scoffed at the invasive, albeit affirmative, question. “I’m not obligated to answer.”

“Well, you don’t have to say so even though we all know it’s a ‘yes.’ I’m just glad Moblit and I could provide you with some saucy visuals!” Hange winked at Levi, then caressed Moblit’s blushing cheek.

“Hange! Change the fucking topic so I don’t vomit.” Hange complied to Levi’s demand and did exactly that. The three of them prattled idly at the table, moving past the awkwardness from earlier.

“How come you two are here, anyway? What about your Orgo lab?” Levi questioned, scooping up some yogurt.

“Oh, some shaky undergrads in a different lab section spilled diethyl ether near a hot plate and it ignited during the pre-lab procedures this morning. No big deal!” Hange casually explained.

“Whole building had to evacuate. We got the notification early this morning.” Moblit added, holding up his phone.

“That’s awful. Is everyone okay?” Levi responded, with genuine concern, setting his yogurt onto the table.

“Aw, look at Levi Poppins being all sweet and caring!” They nudged him, before stealing another apple slice from his plate.

“Tch.”

Moblit answered, while Hange warmly fixed their eyes on Levi. “Yes, everyone got out safely, they’re just cleaning everything up now.”

“Good to hear.” Levi finished his meal and gathered his dishes, clearing them from the table. He stared at the two of them tentatively, as if expecting one of them to speak.

“But we’re still gonna head to the library, so you’ll have the apartment to yourself!” Hange assured, recognizing that familiar, expectant stare from him. Levi nodded in approval.

“We should probably head out if we wanna snag one of the better study rooms.” Moblit stated.

“True that. Marley University has all the cash for football, yet only 3 study rooms in the library have outlets and proper ventilation.” Hange added, shaking their head in disbelief.

Levi smirked. “Priorities, right? All they care about are their precious Warriors, the football team that can’t even score a touchdown. It’s pathetic.” 

Levi’s bitter remark earned chuckles from both Hange and Moblit, as they moved toward the door to leave.

“We’ll see you later, Levi Poppins. Have fun with your draft!” Hange wished him the best as they walked down the apartment building hallway to the lobby with Moblit.

It’s not as though Levi disliked either of them, but he was definitely delighted to have the apartment to himself. It was peaceful, and surely he preferred that over chaos. And trust, Hange could be chaotic at times even when Moblit was present to buffer their intense personality.

Levi checked his phone. No notifications, but he didn’t mind. He prepared his afternoon tea, pouring it into a comically huge mug, then walked into his bedroom, placing the tea on a coaster on his dresser. 

  
  


Not only was Levi’s room so clean that you could lick ice-cream off of the floor, everything was well organized and there wasn’t any clutter. In his first few weeks of living with Hange, they were astounded at the sheer tidiness of the room, saying that it looked “like the Apple Store fucked an IKEA display.” 

Clothes went in their respective drawers and shoes rested on a shoe rack inside a color-coordinated closet—color-coordinated being a strong descriptor since Levi didn’t wear much outside of gray, black, white, beige, olive, and navy blue. Skin and hair care products lived in the bathroom for the most part, and books were organized by author name in stacks. The most spontaneous thing in his room was an icy blue area rug which adorned the floor. Wall decor was minimal and consisted mostly of landscapes and abstract art, as well as posters from  _ Dirty Harry, Taxi Driver, _ and  _ Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind  _ from his high school days that matched the modern design and muted colors of his room. Levi much preferred it this way—Uncle Kenny’s basement apartment in the South Side of Sina was crowded, tacky, and chaotic. He  _ really _ hated it there.

Moving his tea to the desk, he sat down in his chair and opened his MacBook, peeking at the time. Almost 2 o’clock—he had an adequate amount of time to work out his draft before his shift at the cafe later that evening. Not long ago, Levi entered a writing competition in which the grand prize was 5,000$. The submission had to be an original creative work of at least 10,000 words, and it was due at 11:59 p.m. that night. He had chosen to write a story about the leader of a group of explorers, tasked with discovering information about the world beyond their civilization. The basic premise was already written and he met the word count requirement for that round, but it needed something extra—embellishment of some sort. It needed a certain je ne sais quoi. Levi pondered at his desk for a while, then devised a plan.

He picked up his laptop and tea and moved into the living room area, onto the couch. Levi’s room was his sanctuary, but perhaps a change of scenery could stimulate his brain to produce ideas. He shifted on the couch, so that his back was against the couch’s arm and his legs rested on the cushions, laptop in lap. Levi summarily got to work on his piece, switching out words and making certain that the sentences were grammatically sound between sips of tea until his mug was empty. 

As he was typing, Levi felt his eyes become heavier, blinking dozily at the screen. Following that initial surge of creativity, Levi stared at the document.  _ No more thoughts, head empty.  _ The blinking cursor on the document mocked his inability to concentrate on the task at hand due to his sleepiness.  _ Know what? Fuck this for now.  _ A brief nap couldn’t hurt, especially if his body was suddenly so demanding of sleep. Although he found it a bit odd, he’d take any bits of sleep he could get even during the day, since it seemed to be a rare specialty at night. With that, Levi closed his laptop and placed it on the wooden coffee table in front of the couch, then dozed off in the cozy living room.

  
  


Levi cracked his eyes open, actually feeling a minor degree of refreshment. The sun was much lower than it was earlier. _Hmph, how weird. Back to work._ He opened his laptop to continue editing his draft, first glancing at the time and— _holy fuck it’s 5:54 p.m.??_ _I can’t sleep at night, but I can sleep during the day?? Fucking make it make sense._ Levi’s shift at the cafe was scheduled for 6 p.m., and he was never late. 

Immediately, he slammed his laptop shut and launched himself from the couch, gathering his few belongings. He slid his laptop into its bag, pulled on a gray hoodie and slid into his Vans. He dashed to the bathroom and peed out all the tea he guzzled before his impromptu nap, then stopped in front of the mirror to fix his hair. He traced his hand over the print of the pillow which was etched into the side of his face. Hopefully, it would disappear before he arrived at the cafe.

Laptop case, keys, and phone in hand, Levi locked the door to the apartment and hurried to the parking lot. He opened Messages to shoot a text to Eld as his stomach growled.

**Levi** : Running a bit late.

**Eld** : Obviously...ur not here lol

**Levi** : I’ll be there soon.

**Eld** : U better be! Me and Gunther r holding it down for now

Levi hopped into his car and situated his laptop in the backseat. Turning the key in the ignition, the ‘99 Toyota Camry sputtered before roaring to start. He backed out and travelled to the main avenue hurriedly, but still cautious of the cars around him. He peeked at the clock—6:11 p.m. He was actually making decent time, until he got behind this burgundy Hyundai SUV, that drove like molasses. The car even halted prematurely at the yellow light, much to Levi’s annoyance.  _ Get off the road, grandpa!  _ Levi locked his eyes onto the stoplight, honking the moment it turned green.  _ Fuck this, I’ll take a shortcut. _

Levi swerved around the car and took his shortcut, driving down side streets and residential streets until he arrived at the cafe parking lot. He parked, grabbed his belongings, then rushed inside the cafe and darted to the register to clock in. As he typed in his employee pin number to clock in, he felt his finger stick to the screen.  _ Yuck.  _

“Nice you could make it,” Eld spoke, Levi rolling his eyes.

“It’s not easy to serve people  _ and _ bus tables. At least Gunther is in the back making the food, or else I guess I’d have to do that too.”

“Fucking relax. There’s barely anyone here to cook for and serve.” Levi peered around the cafe, looking at the four patrons who’d just entered, as well as the dirty tables. “I’ll start cleaning the tables and counter since you’re woefully incompetent in that realm.”

Eld cocked his head at Levi, then walked to the back to briefly chat with Gunther in the back after muttering out a quiet “Jerk” in response to Levi’s comment. Levi put on his name tag then dropped his laptop off in the employee area in the back, before walking over to Eld.

“I’ll be taking my break fairly soon, I have something I need to finish up.” Levi meant to complete his draft earlier, but with his impromptu nap, he’d just have to do it on his break. He didn’t want to submit right at 11:59 p.m., as he much preferred to complete things as soon as possible. It’s rare that he loses track of time like he did.

“Just got here and you’re already planning your break? Wow, you seriously suck,” Eld jested.

“Tch. It’ll be quick. Think you can hold it down?”

Eld scoffed. “I’m sure I can manage.” Gunther chuckled at the exchange.

Levi cleaned a few tables and wiped down the counter as well as the sticky register. Admittedly, the hip cafe did look much cleaner. He took a look around; not too many people. A couple enjoying dinner over a game of chess, an older fellow reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee, a middle-aged woman reading a Dickens novel, a trio of teens watching videos between studies, and a blonde man pretending to grade papers. 

Checking the time, Levi clocked out for his break since the cafe wasn’t too busy. He opened his laptop and edited the draft. However, his writer’s block lingered from earlier. He closed his laptop and decided that perhaps a quick snack could grant him some inspiration.  _ Can’t write on an empty stomach.  _ Levi peeked at the register and saw Eld taking a young man’s order.

He brewed some tea for himself, then chose a blueberry danish to eat. With his danish in hand and tea in a jumbo ceramic mug, he marched to a table he’d just cleaned. Except his journey was cut short.

He spotted a flash of blond hair in front of him before he felt the liquid scorch his abdomen, as it spilled onto his clean gray shirt.  _ Fucking FUCK! _ The hot tea had only sprinkled the blond sasquatch in front of him, but Levi himself was drenched.

He staggered backward in pure repulsion. He’d been soaked for the second time today, but this time, it wasn’t his fault. It was the blond asshole’s fault, if only he’d been watching where he was going.

Not only did the jerk crash into him and cause him to spill his tea, the collision made him accidentally smash his blueberry danish onto himself. Clumps of it smeared on his already-soaked abdomen, the flaky crust adhering easily to his shirt because of the dampness. Icing and blueberry jam painted his shirt a lighter blue, and confectioner’s sugar topped it all. 

_ I look like a fucking mess. Fuck this guy. _

The blond culprit gawked at him, before working out a worthless ‘Sorry.’ The jumbo ceramic mug holding the tea and the plate holding the danish slipped out of Levi’s hands and dropped onto the floor, just missing the cushiony rug, clattering as they were turned to smithereens by the impact. The whole cafe turned its attention to the exchange.

“Sorry my ass! Watch where you fucking walk!” he boomed, above the low murmur of the cafe.  _ How does a motherfucker wear glasses and not see where he’s going? How the hell does that work? What a dumbass. _

“I do watch where I walk!” The dummy clarified, squinting down through his useless glasses at the nametag on Levi’s chest. “I just didn’t see you down there,  _ Levi _ .” Levi hated that shit.  _ Crash into me AND condescend? Fuck this guy, for real. _

Levi’s lips curled in further rage as he scowled at the blond. His fists clenched and he grit his teeth; fury brooded in his eyes. The blond wasn’t as entertained as he caught a glimpse of Levi’s fury. Shit was about to get real. _ If only I had my umbrella weapon from earlier. I’d be Levi, Poppin his ass. _

The young man from the register and his little girlfriend dashed over to the scene for whatever reason, while the blonde sat at the table and watched from afar. Eld also watched the scene from behind the register, Gunther emerging from the kitchen to scope the situation.

“Zeke, what the hell is going on?” he asked.

“This dwarf bumped into me and then dumped his treat all over himself,” the dumbass answered.  _ Dwarf? Fuck. This. Guy! _

“Tch. Your version of events is fucking wrong!  _ You  _ didn’t watch where you were going and slammed into  _ me, _ ” Levi corrected. 

An attempt to de-escalate came from the young man’s little girlfriend. “Look, everyone just calm down. We’ll clean this up, and it’ll be forgotten.” Her attempt proved partially fruitful, as a fraction of his fury dissolved at the prospect of the mess being cleaned.  _ Cleaning up the mess is the least they can fucking do. _

“Damn right you will!” His tea-drenched outfit clung to him, the blueberry paste and icing seeping through to touch his skin. He cringed at the feeling, absolutely sickened by it.

Realizing his break time was limited, and that he still had to submit his draft, he announced, “Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit, I need to go change.”

With that, he pushed past the blond sasquatch and his accomplices and out the front door, storming to his car. He flung the trunk open and grabbed a change of clothes, before re-entering the cafe and stopping in front of the scene. They eyed Levi as he barked an order.

“By the time I’m done changing, all this shit better be cleaned up.” He stalked to the back toward the bathroom and slammed the door with so much force, it nearly shook the building.

Levi very quickly changed into black jeans and an oversized black sweatshirt which didn’t belong to him.  He emerged from the bathroom, still a bit pressed, and strode over to the scene of the collision. And it was still. Fucking. Dirty. He was utterly stunned and equally maddened to see a mess still on the floor—now thickly slimy and even more difficult to wipe up—while the blond culprit and his teenage accomplices fled the sticky crime scene. 

“Eld! Bring me a broom and mop!”  Eld appeared next to him with the supplies in hand. Levi received them and cleaned the scene without delay. He’d have to submit his draft after he finished doing what the blond sasquatch should've.

“Hey, Levi.” Eld called out.

“What the fuck do you want?” Levi craned his neck at Eld as he was bent over, vigorously sweeping the broken plate and mug off the floor into a dustpan. Customers carried on with their activities, as hearing Levi swear and seeing him clean in the cafe was certainly nothing new.  


“The way you’re holding that broom and sweeping...it reminds me of that chimney sweep song from  _ Mary Poppins. _ ”   


“Tch. You bothered me just for that?” Levi smirked at the sheer absurdity of the comment, though it was rather funny, being compared to Mary Poppins for a second time that day.

_ Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, motherfucker. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave some feedback if you want, but please be nice<3 If there's any confusion about any plot points, drop a comment and I'll be happy to clarify as best as I can!
> 
> And before you ask, Yes. I watched Mary Poppins recently LMAO  
> I feel like the shower scene was a bit unexpected, but I needed to establish Levi as a horny lad. He's also kind of lonely, which is why this chapter was much more descriptive and introspective :-/
> 
> Next chapter will return to Zeke's perspective for the next day in his life, so tune in for that :-)


	3. A Majorly Mundane Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A regular-degular day in the life of Zeke as he assumes a variety of roles. Nothing unusual here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you're healthy and well! Some notes before you begin::
> 
> \- Certain words are italicized for emphasis, or meant to represent a character's inner monologue.  
> \- Explicit sexual content ahead!
> 
> I read this over a few times but didn't go crazy with the editing and proofreading, as doing that usually makes me overthink everything. So if I made any errors, no I didn't<3 Enjoy!

Zeke drifted into the kitchen to the refrigerator, yanking the door open only to reveal an abysmal display. To name a few items: ketchup packets, 2-week-old potato salad, carrots, onions, and butter rested on the shelves. Zeke prodded around the shelves for his mocha frappuccino, to no avail. He hastily unlocked his phone and shot Eren a text.

**Zeke** : You took my last frapp?

**Eren** : yeah srry if u were looking forward to it lol

**Zeke** : You punk!

**Zeke** : Look forward to these hands when you get home.

**Eren** : lOoK fOrWaRd tO tHeSe HaNdS wHeN yOu gEt hOmE.

Despite his minor displeasure at Eren swiping his last frappuccino, he was somewhat understanding. Options were scarce in the refrigerator. He’d likely have to venture to the grocery store later that day.

He strolled to the counter and grasped the plastic container of store-bought muffins next to the microwave. Cinnamon apple, blueberry, or chocolate-chip? He scanned the muffins with the utmost scrutiny; this would undoubtedly be a tough decision. Though, because Eren drank his mocha frappuccino, he easily selected a chocolate-chip muffin to alleviate his hankering for chocolatey goodness.

Zeke settled himself at the kitchen table and took out his phone to browse through social media as he nibbled on the soft muffin, disregarding the accumulating email notifications on the Mail app from distressed undergraduate students. Surely, their concerns could wait. He launched Snapchat, tapping through a few stories before closing the app to check out whatever was being said in his friend group’s group chat. Squinting at the time displayed on the microwave, 8:12 a.m., Zeke determined it would be time to head out soon. He devoured the rest of the muffin, licking smeared chocolate off his fingers and sweeping crumbs off the table.

Dressing for class, Zeke pulled on cuffed blue jeans, an earth-toned flannel, and brown Chelsea boots. Ruffling his hair and brushing any muffin crumbs out of his beard in the mirror, he glimpsed at his outfit and unbuttoned the top few buttons, revealing a little cleavage. He posed in the mirror, lifeless eyes substantially enlivened by his outfit. _Hey, I look kinda hot!_

He placed the papers to be graded into his bookbag as well as his laptop and notes for the day’s lecture, pending Dr. Magath’s approval. Zeke heard a notification _bloop_ from his phone and opened a snap from Lara. 

A video of Lara in a mint-green Lululemon activewear set, legs forming a 180-degree angle on her yoga mat as she laid on her back, crunching her abdomen in energetic pulses, followed by a steamy selfie of her sweating in a towel, hair perfectly tousled and makeup unscathed, captioned “the sauna💨 after morning barre hits different” to which Zeke replayed, screenshotted, and then responded;

**Zeke** : In the sauna...without me?😔

**Lara** : lol zeke we’ve fucked in my sauna plenty of times

**Zeke** : Very true! But I’m always down to do it again.

**Lara** : * _Read at 8:52 a.m.*_

Zeke focused on the screenshot for a few moments, feeling his face flush and his body stir. _Now that’s a muffin I wouldn’t mind having for breakfast._ Glancing down at his crotch, he pondered. _Do I have time to...?_ He peered at the time at the top of the screen—8:53 a.m. Class would be beginning at 9:30 a.m.; his loins would have to wait. It was time to leave.

Hauling his bookbag onto his back, he darted into the kitchen to snatch 2 water bottles, stuffed them into his bag, then proceeded out the door, locking it behind him. Tossing his bookbag into the backseat and settling himself in the driver’s seat, he started the car, backing out cautiously as expected. He hadn’t removed the CD from yesterday and as a result, classic rock was the automatic pick for his morning commute.

  
  
  
  


Arriving at the Communications and Media Building, Zeke immediately perceived the unmistakable and discordant noises of numerous professors lecturing dozy, miserable students in different classrooms. Very refreshing.

After severely fucking around in his undergraduate career and still inexplicably managing to secure a degree, Zeke began his graduate studies at the esteemed Marley University. There, he began a rigorous PhD program in the field of media studies, centering on the topics of gender and sexuality, much to Grisha’s dismay.

“Knock, knock!” He uttered with bottled enthusiasm as he knocked, before swinging around Dr. Magath’s open doorway into his office.

“If you’re going to knock on the door with your hand, you certainly need not say it as well.” Dr. Magath responded from his desk, solemnity in his tone as his eyes remained fixed on a student paper he was ravaging, evidenced by the bevy of red pen marks on it.

Moderately crushed at Dr. Magath’s stern advice regarding door-knocking etiquette, Zeke properly stepped into the small office, careful not to knock anything over. Small was an understatement—the man’s office was essentially a supply closet, with hardly enough room for a desk, computer, file cabinet, and a chair for students. The lack of room forced Dr. Magath to stack files and set items on top of others, granting the office a disheveled appearance. Despite this, the room reflected none of the man’s personal life and the minimal decor maintained— _decor_ being a strong word since there was but a single potted plant on the window sill—the same level of austerity as him. Undergraduate students found the combination of close proximity with Dr. Magath in his cramped office and a lack of personal adornment especially intimidating.

“Dr. Magath, how has your morning been?”

“Fine, and yours?” He responded, unfazed by Zeke’s quizzicality.

“Sweet, as a matter of fact. My muffin was delicious and there was barely any traffic and—” Zeke was interrupted by Magath clearing his throat and shooting him an unfriendly, sobering glare. But then again, they weren’t friends. Dr. Magath was simply his faculty advisor for his dissertation, overseeing his progress in the last semester of his PhD program. In addition, he was the Chair of the Media Studies Graduate Program. Quite a tiny office provided for a man with such a sizable position.

“Right, I’ll get on with it.” Zeke pulled out his notes in a thick binder for that day’s lecture and showed them to Dr. Magath for his swift approval. “These are the topics I plan to cover today.”

Magath inspected his near-illegible handwriting before nodding. “Seems decent to me. Or I suppose, _rad_ as you kids would say,” he approved of the notes, gesturing air quotes as he muttered the horribly outdated lingo.

Zeke smirked, appreciative of the attempt of cordiality from him, but equally repulsed at the sound of the ancient slang from Dr. Magath’s _traditional_ mouth. Antiquated colloquialism aside, verbal validation from Dr. Magath was truly gratifying. Zeke stood beaming at the serious man for a few moments, before he was promptly brought back to reality.

“It’s 9:27 a.m., you’re going to be late if you keep standing here, all smiley and weird.”

“True!” He pointed at the man. “I’ll head out now, see you later, Dr. Magath.”

“Yes, good luck with your lecture, Zeke,” Dr. Magath wished him well, before resuming his total demolition of students’ papers and in turn, their dreams.

  
  
  
  


“Alright,” Zeke clapped his hands together and boomed above the low murmur of the groups, “What have we come up with?”

He was met with a cricket-worthy silence, and blank faces watching him. He stared back at the class, all 36 students, before one brave soul dared to raise his hand.

“Tbh our group thinks gender is fake...and yeah that’s all we came up with.”

Zeke raised an eyebrow and nodded perceptively. “Heard. Anyone else want to add anything before we _dive_ into that wise sentiment?” He made a diving gesture with his hands pressed together, earning scattered smiles from the class.

“ _Tbh,_ I like the direction your group is moving toward. Very interesting. But I wouldn’t define it as fake, per se.” He expressed.

Another student raised her hand and Zeke pointed at her to speak. “I feel like calling it fake implies that it has no real world consequences. And it does.”

Zeke smiled and nodded excitedly. “Very astute! When we define something as fake, it becomes worthless. Virtually meaningless.” He perched himself on the large wooden desk in front of the smartboard, legs dangling as he professed. 

“Gender affects the ways in which people think, walk, talk, behave, and eat. To call it fake is a step in the right direction, in the sense that it is indeed, made up or _constructed_ by the society we live in. But it is very meaningful and impactful and it actually matters, much unlike my father.” A few sympathetic laughs followed the somber-toned remark.

The same student from before added, “It also affects the way we fuck!” Zeke threw his head back and laughed, the class tittering at the profanity as well.

“Yes! Based on gender identity, we do have ascribed ideas as to who we’re supposed to _make love with_ and who we shouldn’t. Crudely said, but still a valid point.” Zeke continued the discussion for 15 minutes or so, before electing to wrap it up.

“Any closing remarks?” Zeke arose from the desk, pacing the front of the room, eyeing students expectantly who were already packing up. Truly, he could speak endlessly about the mechanisms of gender and sexuality, as well as the portrayals of those systems across forms of media. After all, it was the topic of his dissertation. “If not, then you’re _free to go._ ” He finger-gunned on the last half of his statement, before proclaiming direction for the next class.

“Next class, we’ll be discussing the features of masculinity and femininity, and how they’re tethered to gender...” He shouted, voice trailing off as the students filed out of the classroom. Reminding himself of the ruined paper from last night, he flagged down the student whose paper was blemished by the dirty cafe table, kindly asking them to re-submit, much to their irritation.

Zeke gathered his belongings from the desk, turned off the projector, and left the empty room. 

To grade papers and possibly edit his dissertation in the library or at his house? At home, he could pull on sweatpants and be at ease as he worked. At the library, there was little comfort. However, he was admittedly more efficient in the library, likely a result of wanting to be perceived that way to an outsider. Performing productivity was a unique specialty of Zeke’s, even with zero energy or motivation. _Library it is._

He marched across campus to the library, stopping to chat with a few undergraduates, before entering through the automatic doors. He settled down to a table by himself, opting not to vie for one of three private, well-ventilated study rooms, taking in the sounds of stressed students typing on keyboards, pens scribbling across papers, and students muffling their chatter. Picking 4 papers out of his bookbag, he gripped a pen and promptly got down to business.

Halfway through the second paper he was grading, he felt his stomach growl. It was hushed at first, then his stomach growled louder, demanding not nourishment alone, but strange glares from people surrounding him. _As if they’ve never heard a stomach growl._ Fortunately, his hunger was the perfect distraction! Can’t operate on an empty stomach, right?

**Zeke** : Heeeeey bestie👀😘

**Pieck** : ...What do you want lol

**Zeke** : 😩😩Can you please bring me sustenance?

**Pieck** : Maybe if you stop using that emoji, I get plenty of that 😩shit from Porco

Zeke then venmoed Pieck 20$.

**Pieck** : How can you be sure I’m not just gonna pocket that for myself lol

**Zeke** : Because I trust you, Pieck. How can I not, when our names rhyme?

**Pieck** : Fair point. Turkey BLT on sourdough with mayo?

**Zeke** : 👈🏻As expected of Pieck, that’s exactly right!

Sound logic from Zeke, since Pieck was rather trustworthy. Within 30 minutes or so, Pieck delivered him a turkey BLT on sourdough bread, which he munched tentatively, discreetly licking mayo off of his fingers in the silent library. It was perfect timing; Zeke was lucky that her seminar had ended for the day. He snapped a picture of the half-eaten sandwich and sent it to Porco, preparing to heckle him with a quip he’d conjured up.

**Zeke** : If she’s your girl...then why did she just bring me a sandwich?😳

 **Porco** : LMAOO she brings _you_ a sandwich, and brings _me_ to ecstasy every night...we’re built different bro💯💯

**Porco** : Imma fuck you on Saturday just for saying that tho

**Zeke** : Yeah? Gonna fuck me hard, daddy?

**Porco** : *up!! I meant I’m gonna fuck you UP on Saturday you nasty mf

**Zeke** : Whatever you say. I’ll bring the lube😚

 **Porco** : 🖕🏻

Zeke had about 30 more papers to grade, and he concluded that if he split it into workable chunks, it’d be more manageable. His conclusion was appropriate, as he completed the paper he got halfway through before his stomach interrupted, and graded 4 more after. 6 down, 24 to go! He would’ve been further along, had he stayed in the cafe last night to work, instead of dashing out of there following the pastry/tea incident.

_Alright, I think that’s enough productivity for now._ Zeke’s eyes were weary after dissecting those few papers; he was a thorough grader and left no word unseen. However, he’d seen enough words and he was hoping to head back home, perhaps recharge with a brief nap. Having that thought, Zeke packed up his bookbag and departed from the library, discarding the wrapper from his sandwich into the garbage by the exit door.

  
  
  


Upon arriving at the house, Zeke sought out his gray sweatpants without delay and unbuttoned his shirt, "airing out” his chest. He grabbed a water bottle from out of his bookbag and chugged it in one gulp, water trickling down his bare chest. Leaving the plastic bottle on the counter to be recycled later, he sauntered into his room and flung himself onto his bed.

He gazed at his ceiling, ruminating on things. Life, the grand meaning of it, what he’d eat for dinner that night, dissertation deadlines, and his upcoming graduation which was dependent on the approval of said dissertation. 

Too much to muse upon at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, he felt.

Zeke fished out a cigarette from the box and held it between his lips as he searched for his Zippo lighter in a jacket pocket. He lit it, then stepped outside into the backyard, taking leisurely drags of the cigarette, following a flock of birds flying overhead with his eyes.

Plodding back into his room, he caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror and sprouted an idea. Picking up his phone, he opened Snapchat. Gray sweatpants and an unbuttoned shirt meant a thirst trap to send to Lara. _Hehe. She started it this morning with that barre pic._

He stood in front of the mirror, fiddled with his waistband, and dug his hand into his underwear. Zeke stroked himself to semi-hardness, enough for an enticing print to be visible through the sweats. He posed in front of the mirror, elongating his body and contracting his muscles to reveal some semblance of a six-pack. He wasn’t as shredded as Reiner, but the muscle definition was evident despite his inconsistent diet and infrequent exercise. Slim, but still built. He wasn’t as endowed as Reiner either, but the bulge in his pants appeared utterly enticing regardless. Including his face in the mirror selfie, he removed his glasses and served a sultry pout. He snapped the flick, then sent it to Lara. The response was near-instant.

**Lara** : hottie😍bet you won’t send me a vid of you stroking it tho...

**Zeke** : I won’t?

Zeke raised his brows at Lara’s message, perceiving it as a direct challenge. He nearly tore off his sweats and underwear, erection jutting out from his body and bouncing as he walked to his dresser. He squeezed lube from the bottle onto his leaking member, then set the bottle back to its place. With his phone in one hand aimed at his hardness, the other lathered the liquid up and down his shaft.

Each pump was heavenly, Zeke sucking in sharp breaths and drawing out soft moans. He recorded a video of his hand gently tugging his glistening firmness. It included audio: a long, drawn out “Ahhhh” from him as he stroked himself. He sent it to Lara.

**Lara** : zeke!! facetime me right fucking now.

Zeke grinned at her urgency. He positioned himself on his bed, sitting up with his legs open. He propped his phone against the pillow in front of him, in a suitable position to include his full abdomen and face in the camera. Clad only in an unbuttoned flannel and socks, he called Lara, fondling himself lazily as he waited for her to pick up.

She answered speedily; only her abdomen was visible on his screen. Zeke was at first unnerved by the headless heaving body on screen, but was rapidly sated by the squelches and by her titillating gasps. She was fully naked on her regal canopy bed; her shiny, luscious black hair was pulled back. Lara’s dainty 24-karat gold necklace shined brightly, resting upon her rising and falling chest as her routinely manicured fingers prodded between her hairless folds.

Lara panted, flitting her clitoris, her body arching toward the camera in pure delight. “God, Zeke!”

“Fuck, Lara!” Zeke tightened his grip and grunted animalistically, curling up his toes as the pleasure surged through every cell in his body.

“Go slow for me, Zekey,” she demanded. Zeke agonizingly moderated his strokes, betraying the voice in both of his heads—the head on his shoulders and the leaking head he was petting at the moment—that screamed for him to go faster. The two of them watched each other through their prospective screens, masturbating together, producing a lusty harmony of moans.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh?” He asked, so deep inside his own world of desire that he felt interrupted by her question.

“You thinking about fucking my tight little _p_ ussy?” She asked, popping the ‘p’ in _pussy_. _Tight, it certainly was_ —the perfect masturbation fuel. But, Zeke had an alternate scenario in mind.

“No…” he groaned. “Do you remember th-that time at the beach…” he recalled through labored breaths, pre-come drooling out of him.

“Which time?” She questioned, tweaking a nipple as she circled her clitoris. “Was it w-when I wore my Versace surf suit, Gucci bikini, Fendi monokini—”

“The time with Eren and Armin…”

“Yeah!” She resounded, reliving that day. “I was wearing my tiny Gucci bikini.”

“So tiny…” Zeke echoed loudly, as he traced fingers over an especially sensitive section of his member, remembering the image. Lara was a petite woman, but the bikini was skimpy, hardly covering her.

“Eren and Armin went to the ocean and we were alone on the towel. You applied sunscreen all over me!”

“Yeah, I massaged you nice and slow, Zekey!”

“Yeesssss,” he hissed. “It felt fucking incredible...your hands were delicate and deft.”

“I had to ensure that my Zeke didn’t get _sunbuuurn_ ,” she purred the last word, earning a sharp grunt from Zeke. “It was SPF-50!” she whimpered, gliding fingers over her hole before sticking two in.

“Yes, SPF-50!” Pressure was building; his body boiling with a need for release. “You were smoothing it all over my back and chest! God, it was hot.”

“I saw you tenting your swim trunks, I wanted to jerk you off really badly, Zeke. My Gucci bikini bottoms were drenched!” She confessed, tickling her G-spot. “If Armin hadn’t come back with that sea shell, I would’ve done it.”

Zeke struggled to stave off his impending orgasm as he writhed on his bed, wishing to hear the rest of what she would’ve done to him that day. “Yeah? You would’ve gone slow with those pretty hands?”

“No.” She whined, instead suggesting new imagery. “I would’ve ripped off your swim trunks with my teeth, and then I would’ve started by teasing your slit. And I would’ve sucked on the tip, swirling my tongue around it how you like.” Zeke huffed and flung his head back at the lush fantasy; he absolutely loved the lewdness as he rode on the cusp of climax.

“Just the tip?” He asked, scrunching up his face, trembling with his erection in his hand. _So fucking close!_

“Just the tip!” She assured him. Zeke smeared pre-come on his tip with specific amounts of pressure, attempting to simulate the sensation of Lara’s mouth. 

“Are you stroking the tip? I know you’re soaking wet for me, _Leaky Zekey,”_ she teased.

‘Shit!” Zeke spurted hotly onto his hand and lower abdomen, body frozen and face scrunched up as he milked himself dry to the thought of Lara teasing his tip so torturously, but somewhat frustrated by that cursed nickname she imposed on him sophomore year of high school.

Zeke was spent, his chest rising and falling as a post-ejaculation euphoria filtered his senses. His room appeared hazy, he was dazed. Finally releasing his grip on himself after a long moment, he distractedly watched the masturbating woman on his phone screen.

Lara continued, “I love sucking you off, Zeke, you make me majorly wet!”

_Hmm. Is majorly a word? That sounds fake._

“Zeke!” They were still on FaceTime, Lara groping her breast and thumbing her clitoris frantically to achieve her peak as Zeke had minutes earlier. He unenthusiastically talked her to her release, trying not to signal his disinterest in the sexual activity. He was winded following the orgasm that had washed over him a moment prior.

“I would’ve straddled you on the towel, pulling it out of your wet mouth to come all over your tits, Lara.” Zeke felt slightly silly uttering the vulgarities, specifically since he’d already climaxed. The fluid on his hand and abdomen was thickening and cooled off, but he knew it was his duty to ascertain and assist in his partner’s pleasure.

“No, not my tits! You’d ruin my bikini, it’s limited edition Gucci!” Lara snapped, annoyance growing.

“Okay, okay. On your...face?” Zeke questioned, hopeful his new location would suffice.

“Yes, I’m almost there!” She whined, on the verge of her sexual peak.

What else to say? Zeke was exhausted of ideas. _Time to improvise_. “Yeah, I’d drizzle my come all over your face like icing on a blueberry danish,” he growled into the phone with all the confidence and no shame, sounding peculiarly seductive as he did so.

Lara came; he watched her body convulse as she moaned between incoherent blends of his name and profanities. If he didn’t have a refractory period, he’d be stiff again without question. 

Zeke smiled lazily at the camera. “Lara, that was kind of—”

“Okay, bye Zeke.” His jaw dropped when she hung up, cutting his statement short abruptly. 

Zeke, dejected by the abrupt hang-up, dashed to the bathroom to clean himself off and pee as well. He rinsed his hands, staring at himself in the mirror; the gratification from such a powerful release providing him a subtle glow. 

As content as he was, his energy was depleted. He trudged into his room and plopped onto his bed and laid there next to his stuffed monkey, dozing off into his post-nut dreamland.

  
  
  
  


“Zeke, wake up.”

Zeke grumbled something unintelligible, before peering at the person waking him with drowsy eyes. It was not someone whom he wanted to see.

“It’s 6 p.m., naptime is over.” Grisha declared, standing over Zeke by his bed. “You need to buy groceries and dinner for tonight. Money is on the kitchen counter.”

“The hell? What’s stopping you?” he asked, voiced laced with sleepiness.

“I have to go to the hospital and work, because _I am employed_. Perhaps if you’d gone to medical school like I instructed, you could say the same.” His words bludgeoned Zeke like projectile rocks. 

Grisha advanced toward the door, exiting, before turning around to add, “And feel free to put on some pants. Contrary to your belief, I don’t enjoy seeing your bare behind.”

Zeke rolled off the bed and stood and stretched, still clothed solely in his unbuttoned flannel and socks. Buttoning it up, he splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom. He stepped into sweatpants, slid into socks, then slid into his Birkenstocks. He placed his glasses on his face. Zeke determined he wouldn’t be seeing anyone of importance at the supermarket; going commando would be acceptable for the brief visit.

Emerging from his room, Zeke walked downstairs and spotted Eren at the kitchen table with his headphones in, writing an assignment. Unusual, as he typically worked in his room.

“Oh hey, thief, when did you get home?”

“Around 3 o’clock.” Eren replied without looking up from his assignment, but removed his headphones.

“And how was your day? How was my mocha frappuccino this morning? Gimme the deets, bro.” Zeke sat down at the table, fixed on Eren inquisitively, eager to chat, like an overzealous talk-show host interviewing a guest.

“It was great, up until I came home and heard you phone-fucking Lara.” He stared dead at Zeke, disgust in his eyes, as Zeke’s face twisted into one of shock and guilt. “I couldn’t even concentrate, I had to sit in here and blast music. Perverted bastard.”

He gasped out of genuine concern. “Eren, I’m sorry you had to hear that! What kind of brother am I? Tainting my _precious_ baby brother’s _virgin_ ears like this.”

Eren narrowed his eyes skeptically and chuckled at the _virgin_ label wrongly imposed on him, before refocusing his attention to his textbook and responding. “That was so fucking gross, but I guess it all makes sense now.”

“At least you know I’m not a grandpa, right?” He chuckled, nudging Eren.

Eren rolled his eyes. “When I came back from the ocean, you had your towel folded over your crotch and Lara was grinning all weirdly, too.” He cringed at the now-tainted memory.

“Yeah...not one of my best moments.” Zeke scratched his ear and shrunk in disgrace. “Are you gonna tell dad we’re still hooking up from time to time?”

Eren smiled slyly. “I think I can keep your little phone-tercourse a secret if you bring me what I want.”

Zeke raised an eyebrow. “Heard. What can I buy for your silence?”

“I think you already know.” Eren grinned.

  
  
  
  


No formal grocery list, only thoughts of what was needed swirling around Zeke’s brain as he moseyed up and down the aisles of the supermarket with his cart. Inside it already was a gallon of milk, a family-sized box of cereal, 2 bunches of bananas, hot pepper-flavored chips, eggs, 3 frozen pizzas, ground beef, a jumbo bag of frozen chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and 6 cans of peas. _Dad mode activated._ Zeke steered the cart to the beverage aisle, aiming to grab the pack of frappuccinos.

As he lifted the drink from the shelf, he felt something hit the back of his head, then saw a small box of Lipton tea bags on the floor next to him. _What the hell?_

“What the hell?” Zeke whipped his head toward the direction of the projectile, and recognized a familiar dark-haired man brooding next to a shopping cart.

“I could say the same to you! You’re the dumbass from the cafe last night.”

“Cafe? Last night? Dumbass?” Zeke feigned confusion, his eyes darting nervously.

“You didn’t clean up the mess you made! Piece of shit.”

“Well sorry, I had to—”

“I don’t care why you had to leave.” In reality, Zeke was relieved that Levi cut him off; he didn’t have a lie prepared as to why he had to leave. 

“So what do you want from me?” He asked, mildly exasperated. “Know what? We’re in the drink aisle. Why don’t you spill something on me and that way we’ll be even?”

“I don’t give a fuck about evening the score. Just stay away from me, dumbass.”

Zeke, bothered by the encounter and by repeatedly being named a dumbass, pushed his cart to the check-out line and waited to ring up his groceries. He whipped out his phone and checked if ‘majorly’ was a word, before placing his groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Loading the groceries into his trunk once at his car, Zeke heard the rumble and sputter of a failing car parked next to his. The person inside turned the key in the ignition attempting to start the engine, to no avail. _Damn. They’d better call AAA._ Looking closer through his glasses, he identified the unfortunate person inside the ‘99 Toyota Camry; it was Levi.

He dismissed the growing concern inside of him as he crammed frozen pizzas next to his jumper cables in the trunk. _Fuck it, I’ll even the score right now._ He finished arranging the groceries in his trunk, then grasped the jumper cables before closing the door. Marching over to Levi’s car with a benign heroism, he bent over and tapped on his driver’s seat window.

Levi’s eyes widened and he jolted. “Stay away from me, you filthy dumbass!”

“Um, this _dumbass_ just wants to help!” He shouted assuredly through the glass. “Please exit your vehicle,” Zeke offered a lukewarm, uncanny smile.

“Tch. How could you help me?”

Zeke jingled jumper cables in his hand in Levi’s view, and he raised his brows. Levi’s irritation waned at the prospect of help with his dead car, courtesy of the blond dumbass. He quickly exited the vehicle as Zeke directed, after popping his hood. 

He performed the necessary steps in hooking up the cables to the proper terminals as well as a metal surface, as Levi stood by in observance behind him. Zeke then started his car, allowing the engine to run for a few minutes. They exchanged reticent glances, before Zeke directed Levi to try to start his own car. Levi’s car roared to life, and he was faintly enthused.

“Looks like you brought my car back to life. Can I leave now?” Levi was quietly surprised; he had no idea that the blond had any knowledge of sorts. Dare he say, he was impressed at the mundane feat?

Zeke scoffed. “Wait a few minutes, you should let it run for a bit. And you could be nicer to the _kind_ man who resurrected your car battery,” he suggested.

“The same man who didn’t clean up his mess yesterday and called me a fucking dwarf? Yeah, right.”

Zeke recalled his hurtful _dwarf_ remark from the previous night and shuddered. It actually was quite rude. He walked over to Levi, boring into his eyes with intense focus. 

“I’m sorry about the dwarf comment. I can imagine it made you uncomfortable, and I shouldn’t have said it. You have every right to dislike me.” He apologized, as serious as Dr. Magath in that moment.

Levi was stunned not only at Zeke’s sincere and solemn tone, but at the kindness in his eyes as well. He gaped at him, looking into his eyes behind his glasses. 

“Thank you for apologizing.” Levi was accustomed to a variety of diminutives regarding his size, but he was not used to heartfelt apologies.

“You’re welcome. I know what it’s like to be height-shamed, so it was way fucked up for me to say something like that to you. This girl I hooked up with once was 6’7. She would dunk on me and use me as an armrest, and _dominate me_ , too.” Zeke admitted in earnest, his voice shrinking as he whispered the domination part.

“Though, if you ask her, she’d insist I was into submission!” He declared, scratching his ear.

Levi narrowed his eyes and stifled a chuckle. “6’7, huh? My ex-fiance was only 6’2.” Levi added that detail to the conversation compulsively; he didn’t know why he was so comfortable casually dropping that in there, but he did it anyway. 

“How much longer do I have to let my car run before I can get out of this parking lot?” Levi cut through the budding, warm exchange with the icy question.

“Not enjoying our conversation?” Zeke glanced at Levi from under his glasses, quizzical.

“Tch. I have places to be.”

Zeke was considerate of this. After all, he did have to head to Eren’s favorite fast food joint in Trost and buy him his silence in the form of cheeseburgers before it closed for the night. Who knows what Levi was up to?

“Okay, you’re _free to go_ , _Levi,_ ” Zeke dismissed him, finger-gunning the last half of his phrase. “You’re as antsy as my students.” Levi proceeded to his car door as Zeke disconnected his cables and threw them into the backseat.

“Oh and it’s Zeke, by the way. Since you’re _clearly_ dying to know.”

“Step away from my car, or else I’ll run over your feet.” He rolled the window down to warn Zeke, Levi putting his car in reverse and backing out a few inches, Zeke standing by in observance. He pressed the brake then peered out his window to lock eyes with Zeke.

“Thank you, _Zeke_. And goodbye.” With that, Levi drove out of the supermarket parking lot.

  
Zeke hopped into his running car, vocalizing to David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” as he turned out of the parking lot, en route to Trost. He secured dinner from the fast food joint for him and Eren, hoping that the frozen groceries had not thawed during his refreshing interaction with the intriguing, but slightly evasive Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave some feedback if you want, but please be nice<3 If there's any confusion about any plot points, drop a comment and I'll be happy to clarify as best as I can!
> 
> Let me know if this was confusing at all. I wanted to depict a day in the life of Zeke, which explains the numerous scene changes. I had too much fun writing the FaceTime scene! Super self-indulgent, but you know I had to do it to em.
> 
> Hopefully I wasn't too "preachy" with Zeke's lecture; I took a class on gender and sexuality a while back and I found it very fascinating and relevant. Like, why not include it in one of my fics right??
> 
> Next chapter will remain with Zeke's perspective for the next day in his life, so tune in for that :-)


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